


When He Talked

by kethereal



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethereal/pseuds/kethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean fell silent after Mary's death, confiding only in his infant brother for a year straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When He Talked

Dean was four years, ten months, and ten days old when he stopped speaking.

 

His last words were a goodnight to his mother, his father, and his beautiful baby brother.

 

He even joked with John about Sammy tossing around a football; a sport that filled most of John and Dean’s weekends.

 

It was just a normal night, _really_. He wore his favorite flannel PJs, a pair he had gotten on one of his shopping trips with Mary, and snuggled up to his favorite stuffed bear that one of John’s work friends had gifted him for his last birthday. His mommy told him angels were watching over him and pecked his forehead, and he drifted off into the sweet, sweet dream land of gum drops and sugar plum fairies.

 

But the angels were nowhere to be found when the poor little boy woke to the sound of his parents’ screams, nowhere to be found when he panicked and wanted so desperately to fix whatever bad was happening even though he was too young to understand. Where were the angels when he carried his beautiful baby brother out of his burning house and was only followed by daddy, but not mommy?

 

Dean no longer believed in angels any more, and he no longer believed in speaking either. If he couldn’t speak to mommy about how his day was or how there was this cool new toy he wanted, he didn’t want to speak to anyone about anything.

 

Except Sammy.

 

He spoke to Sammy.

 

John would often leave the boys with family or friends, off to do... whatever it was daddy did but didn’t tell Dean about. Dean hated the secrecy, was too scared that he’d never see John again just like he knew he’d never see Mary again.

 

For a while, he tried desperately to cling to John. John, stuck in his own grieving, pushed the poor little boy away. In return, Dean clung to Sammy.

 

That’s how Sam got the nickname.

 

Dean was just old enough that most people trusted him to watch Sam, especially since he had “ _really grown up since Mary’s passing, poor kid._ ” Dean would take Sam in an empty bedroom or even into a backyard, when weather permitted, and he’d talk to him for hours.

 

Dean told Sam about his day, told him about this cool new toy he saw (but knew he wouldn’t get, since Mary was always the one sneaking money to buy Dean the cool new toys), even told him about how much he missed mommy.

 

‘Sammy’ came about in late August. It was the weekend before Dean was to start his very first year of school. John had left the boys with Bobby for the school year but promised he’d come back whenever possible. Sam was about 15 months old, and the kid grew like a weed.

 

He was walking, and walked perfectly fine on his own, but he refused to walk unless Dean was holding onto him. He talked a bit too, but not really. It was mostly just weird baby sounds that sometimes seemed to fit into the definition of a normal word. Dean didn’t think it counted.

 

Dean still didn’t talk. In nearly a year, with the exception of talking to Sam, he had said a grand total of maybe five sentences. When John asked around, plenty of people said it was normal and it was just Dean’s way of grieving. He would talk when he was ready, and there was no need to pressure him into doing it before then.

 

The boys went for a walk in the late August dusk, just light enough outside that Bobby would let them walk around the salvage yard for a few minutes before they had to stay in for the night.

 

Dean missed being outside at night. On nights he couldn’t sleep, he and Mary would sneak out into the backyard. They had three sun chairs out there – one for Mary, one for John, and one for Dean and little Sam who just laid on Dean’s lap. On the nights when he couldn’t sleep and Mary would take his hand and sneak outside with him, Dean would sit next to her in John’s sun chair. He didn't fill more than half the long chair but he felt like a big boy regardless. He and Mary would hold hands and gaze up at the stairs and take turns telling each other bedtime stories.

 

Dean’s favorite story was about this pretty, pretty princess who had a real hard life until she met her prince. Her prince was handsome, with dark hair and a love for her that burned brighter than all the stars in the sky. The story had a bad middle, Dean would say, but he really liked the ending. See – in the middle, the princess has to save her prince.

 

This bad, bad person shows up and offers the princess a deal. In ten years, the princess will have to do this bad person a favor, and in return, her prince would live.

 

Dean liked the fact the princess saved the prince “’cause it was real different and not normal but a good story.” But he didn’t like this bad person, and he told mommy that he wished there was another way the princess could save the prince. Mary just said that it showed what true love is really all about.

 

The story always ended with the prince and the princess getting married, having two beautiful baby boys, and living happy ever after.

 

Mary never said what happened ten years later, but once in a while, under her breath, when she was tucking Dean in, she would whisper something about the ten years almost being up and the princess having to pay the price.

 

Dean never wanted to find out what the price was.

 

Dean didn't figure out until he was older what the price was and how the princess had paid it on the early November night that her oldest beautiful baby boy stopped believing in angels.

 

After Mary died, Dean thought he would’ve promised a bad, bad person just about anything to save her ‘cause he truly loved his momma.

 

Dean tells Sam this story as they walk around the salvage yard, Dean’s hand enclosed tightly around Sam’s tiny fist. If he let go, even for just a second to itch his nose, Sam quit walking. If he kept his hand away for too long, Sam would fall over over and refuse to get up ‘til Dean helped him.

 

Eventually, they reached the area of the yard infested with junk cars and littered with broken glass and old parts. Dean picked Sam up, wrapped his too long legs around his waist, and carried Sam until they got close to the house again.

 

With Sam holding onto Dean’s arm, Dean calls him Sammy for the first time.

 

“Mommy said true love is about sacrifice.”

 

He has a hard time sounding out the long word, but he takes it extra slow because he knows no one around is going to judge him.

 

“She said the princess loved the prince so much, she sacrificed stuff for him. I’m not a princess but, I’d sacrifice stuff for you, Sammy. I love you like how mommy said the princess loved her prince. If somethin’ bad happened to you, I’d keep you safe.”

 

Sammy made one of his weird baby noises when he was called by the new nickname, which Dean took as a good sign.

 

When they got back close to the house, Dean let his Sammy down again except this time, Sam’s little fingers curled tight around Dean’s. In a way, Sam’s tiny hand wound around Dean’s told Dean that Sammy would try to keep him safe too.

 

By then, the sun was close to gone and the sky had turned all different shades of blues and purples, which matched the little butterfly clips that Dean had put in Sam’s hair to keep it out of his face. Right before Dean reached up and opened the door, he bent down to meet Sam’s height. He kissed his beautiful little brother upon his head and followed with a statement he’d be repeating for the majority of his life.

 

“I’ll keep you safe, Sammy. Forever.”

 

Then he helped Sam over the threshold, signaled for him to wave to Bobby who sat in the living room, and began to mount the stairs with his brother in tow.

 

\--

 

A day later, Bobby got a call from Dean’s teacher. It was the first day of school and already there was a complaint that the kid wouldn’t talk no matter what. Bobby explained the trauma the child went through, and Dean earned a free pass on speaking.

 

When Dean got home from school that day, he spoke his sixth sentence after immediately rushing in the door and squeezing Bobby's lower half as tight as he possibly could.

 

“Thank you.”

 

But the pass on speaking wouldn’t be needed for much longer. At eighteen months, just a few days after the anniversary of Mary’s death (which John made it back for, but left shortly thereafter), Sammy said his first word.

 

It sounded like more baby noises at first. He and Dean sat in their room at Bobby’s house while Bobby cooked dinner downstairs, Dean struggling through a book he was assigned to read for school.

 

“Sammy, shh. Gotta read.”

 

The weird baby noises continued until Dean sat his book down and looked at Sammy, giving him a slight frown because this reading thing was hard and he really was trying but Sam cooing didn’t help at all.

 

Dean was about to reach for his binky when Sam said it. It was a hard word to say, and was different from the usual “dada” and “mama” that most babies first utter.

 

Sam’s first word was Dean.

 

He said it once, and then twice.

 

Dean lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

“Sammy! You can talk!”

 

Dean picked Sam up, despite him getting chunky the older he got, and hurried down the stairs with him.

 

“Bobby! Bobby!”

 

It was the first time since Dean met Bobby that he actually said his name for him to hear, and Bobby was so shocked, he nearly dropped a damn plate.

 

“Sammy speaks! He said my name!”

 

Dean took his beautiful baby brother into the kitchen, holding him tightly to his side, and prompted him to speak again. Sam made some more weird baby noises, then said ‘Dean’ once more.

 

Bobby did drop the plate that time.

 

And Dean never told Sam, but the day he said his first word, was the day that Dean started talking again too.


End file.
